


Most Wanted

by Artemisa97



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Police, But she was already a bitch in cannon so I have no regrets, Corinne is a bitch in this one, Criminal Peter Hale, Detective Chris Argent, M/M, NOT PETOPHER, Present Tense, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemisa97/pseuds/Artemisa97
Summary: "Peter Hale is a criminal, and Chris hates him. He’s been hunting the man his whole career, and had been close to taking him down a number of times, only for everything to go to Hell at the last minute. Hale is too cunning, too resourceful, too well-connected. Trapping him is like grabbing a handful of sand: possible, but, at the end of the day, futile.Today, he has finally taken him down.And now, talking to his superior, he can feel the sand slipping between his fingers, trickling down his closed fist.".Or the one where Chris is the Detective in charge of hunting Peter down... but he's also in love with him.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Corinne | Desert Wolf/Peter Hale (Past)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Most Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was made for a tropes mashup. Redashel asked for Detective/Criminal + The Big Damn Kiss, and here is the result!
> 
> The tittle comes from a promotional poster of _White Collar_ and I have no regrets: it fits and it's cool. I'm bad at naming things, don't judge me, xD
> 
> Thanks to Rhysiana for being my beta, if it weren't for her this fic would be kind of a mess.
> 
> WARNING: It's brief, but it's heavily implied that Corinne was abusive towards Peter.

Peter Hale is a criminal, and Chris hates him. He’s been hunting the man his whole career, and had been close to taking him down a number of times, only for everything to go to Hell at the last minute. Hale is too cunning, too resourceful, too well-connected. Trapping him is like grabbing a handful of sand: possible, but, at the end of the day, futile.

Today, he has finally taken him down.

And now, talking to his superior, he can feel the sand slipping between his fingers, trickling down his closed fist.

“With all due respect,” he says. “I’ve been hunting Peter Hale for two decades, I know him. He’s a con artist and a thief, he commits several crimes a day, and there is no chance of him ever reforming. We can’t allow him to go free.”

“Maybe,” says Stilinski, tired. “But he has information on the Benefactor, information he won’t share unless we give him a full pardon.”

Chris wants to scream. He doesn’t. The Benefactor, who may not even be one person, runs a powerful network, mercenaries and hitmen ready to murder anyone on their way. It is, of course, a far more important target than a man that steals diamonds and pretty paintings, no matter how infuriating that particular man is. It’s the right thing to do, an amazing deal to make, but Chris is still frustrated. He’ll have to see Peter’s smug face while taking off his handcuffs, silently pointing out that, even in defeat, he has still won.

* * *

Peter Hale is a criminal, and Chris is in love with him. He would love to say that he doesn’t know when or why he fell, but it would be a lie. It happened at a party where Chris was undercover, working on another case. Peter had been there by virtue of his criminal connections and general charm, and most eyes in the room were focused on him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt under the suit jacket and his chest glistened with sweat and alcohol.

Peter had come around and started to talk to him, hands on his arm, eyes shining with mischief, flirtations blatant. He was smart, charming, fascinating, and could make Chris laugh against his will. They only spoke for half an hour or so, but when Chris was about to go do his actual job, Peter had taken a pen out of his pocket and written his number down on Chris’s arm. From his elbow to his wrist, following the vein.

“I won’t leave for hours, come find me when you’re done,” he had said, beautiful smile on his full lips, before kissing his cheek.

Chris’ team had arrested their target an hour later, ruining the party. When he got out of the building, ready to go home, Peter was there, waiting against the wall.

“You have to know I’m a cop now,” he had said, because he had felt Peter’s eyes on him during the arrest, seeing through his cover.

“Now?” Peter had asked, arching an eyebrow. “This is why you’ll never catch me, Christopher, you keep underestimating me.”

Peter knew who he was. He knew Chris was the one chasing him.

“Were you taunting me, then? Laughing at me?”

“No, but I couldn’t miss the chance of actually talking to you,” he had said, smiling and getting closer to him. “It’s not every day you get to flirt with the possibility of your own downfall.”

“It’s not just a possibility. I’ll catch you soon.”

“Perhaps.” And his eyes were shiny and amused, an invigorating challenge. “In the meantime, you have my number. Don’t hesitate to use it.”

Peter Hale was a criminal, and yet he had kissed Chris’s cheek again, close to the corner of his lips, before turning around and disappearing in the streets of New York. He had stolen his heart in the process, but well. He was just that good of a thief.

* * *

Peter Hale is a criminal, but there are worse monsters out there. That’s why Chris has to pretend to be his partner in crime while meeting with his contact with the Benefactor, as protection. They need him alive for trial and Chris knows he will take a bullet for the thief, as much as it pains him.

“Who’s your friend?” asks the woman. The Desert Wolf, one of the most wanted people in the country, maybe even the world. Peter calls her Corinne.

“My partner in this heist. He’s the one that knows how to break through the security of the museum. You’ll need him to get in and kill the security guard.”

The woman looks at Chris and she’s clearly derisive, huffing and making a gesture he would translate as “really?” She hates him, for some reason. Chris hates her too, for several.

“I thought you would be smart enough not to bring your boy toy to this meeting, darling.”

“I see no boys here,” Peter says, arching an eyebrow. “And don’t jump to conclusions, we’re here on business.”

“Please, I know your type,” she snaps, showing her teeth like a feral animal. Then she turns to Chris, venom dripping from her mouth and eyes, toxic as Chernobyl. “He does love people who can hurt him, so don’t be afraid to make him scream. It’s always so sweet when he does.”

Chris is about to shoot that woman in the face when Peter’s hand closes around his wrist, soft but present.

“Well, what’s the fun in being with people who can’t take you down? I like to be on equal footing, not that you would understand that.”

“We’ve never been on equal footing,” she laughs.

“Your legs made up for your stupidity,” snaps Peter. “Now stop playing around.”

“Come on, Peter,” she says, smile sweet and even more terrifying. “You knew from the beginning I won’t work with you, not after you ran away with my half of the loot.”

“I like to think of that as repayment.”

“I like to think of that as your death sentence,” she says, and shoots Peter in the chest.

Chris isn’t fast enough to do anything about it and his heart is breaking into pieces while he lifts his gun and shoots her. She’s good, fast enough to take cover under the desk, but he hits her in the shoulder and reinforcements are kicking the door down.

Leaving her to them, he drags Peter’s body behind a column and opens his jacket to check the wound.

“You should buy me dinner first,” says Peter, groaning.

Chris doesn’t answer, he’s too relieved at seeing the bulletproof vest.

“Smart,” he says.

“Always,” smiles Peter, letting his head hit the ground. “It still hurts like a bitch, in case you want to kiss it better.”

Chris wants to kiss Peter more than he wants to breathe, but he doesn’t.

“I’m on the clock,” he says, and goes to help the team take down Corinne.

He gets to shoot her in the hip next right before one of his colleagues tackles her to the ground and handcuffs her. It’s very satisfying.

* * *

Peter Hale is a free man, but Chris knows he’s still a criminal at heart. When he opens the door of his apartment and sees him standing there with a bottle of wine, he shouldn’t be happy.

“You are not on the clock anymore,” says Peter, and his smile is the most beautiful thing Chris has ever seen. He lets him in.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, the trial is finally over,” he says, shamelessly going through Chris’s kitchen cabinets until he finds appropriate wine glasses. “I thought we should toast Corinne's new short-term address.”

It’s been almost a year since they arrested her, but justice moves slow. Chris hasn’t seen Peter outside of court since that day, and he has missed him like a limb.

“Do you think she’s going to escape?”

“They’ll kill her in prison,” he says, handing him a glass. “She has too many enemies to survive in there.”

“You seem happy about it.”

“Well, she did shoot me twice.”

“Twice?” he asks, and has to stop himself from going after her and shooting her again. In the head.

“If you’re really,  _ really  _ good, I’ll let you see the scar,” says Peter, eyes shining with mischief.

Chris has no answer for that; he has no answer for anything at all, since his throat has dried like an old bone. He sips the wine. It’s excellent. Peter wouldn’t buy anything but the best.

“So what’s in your future now? Going back to a life of crime?”

Peter laughs at that, shaking his head fondly.

“Come on, Christopher. I publicly went up against the Benefactor and collaborated with the police, no one in the criminal world will want anything to do with me. No, I’m going straight. As much as I could ever be  _ straight _ , naturally,” he smirks, touching Chris’s shoulder with intent. “I already have offers from several insurance companies that know how good I am at what I do. And a book deal, of course.”

“A book deal?” askes Chris, and he doesn't know why on Earth he’s surprised. God, Peter is just… so fucking  _ Peter _ .

“Don’t worry, I’ll change your name. I was thinking of Alistair Cross.”

“Don’t dare you.”

“I mean, you could always convince me otherwise,” he says, lips brushing the shell of Chris’s ear.

“Could I?

“If you want to… and I’m pretty sure you do.”

“You’re a criminal,” he says, but without fighting Peter’s soft touch.

“And you’re a cop. It’s a bit kinky, but then again, so am I.”

“You are?” he asks, drinking more wine. His ears are blushing, he can feel them radiating heat.

“Of course. And you, Christopher, play my competence kink like a fiddle.”

He coughs. The apartment is too hot, all of the sudden.

“It took me decades to catch you.”

“I know,” moans Peter, lips brushing against the heated skin, voice a whisper. “And every second of it was thrilling.”

“Was it, now?” he asks, from very far away. Chris doesn’t know how it is possible, because he’s pretty sure his brain just shut down indefinitely.

“I told you, I like to be on equal footing. And you, Christopher, kept me on my toes at every turn. You don’t know how hot it is, knowing that you’re good enough to bring me down.”

“That is kinky.”

Peter laughs. Chris melts against him, because he’s only human.

“I like to look at it this way: you can bring me down and I can bring  _ you  _ down; but if we don’t, if we have the power to do so and choose not to just because being together is more fun…” He trails off, biting Chris’ earlobe. “Well, you can’t tell me that it isn’t hot as fuck.”

Chris kisses him. Grabs him by the neck and kisses him like it’s a battle, like he’s starving. Chris has spent years dreaming about how good it would be and yet his imagination pales in comparison with real deal, with the ambrosia that is Peter’s smart mouth.

They’re breathless when they separate, and Peter has a look between shocked and blissed out that immediately becomes Chris favorite thing in the world. He wants to dedicate every second of the rest of his life to making that expression appear.

“Stealing kisses, Christopher?” Peter asks, laughing against his throat, nibbling at his jaw.

“You must be rubbing off on me,” jokes Chris, his hand pulling Peter’s hair to get their mouths close again.

“Sounds like a plan,” Peter smirks, and kisses him.

Peter Hale will always be criminal, in a way, as he is a lot of things. But to Chris, Peter is more than that: he’s everything.


End file.
